Regret
by Idan
Summary: Inspired by the TV Guide post-RJ spoilers. Don't read if you're staying spoiler free! Lisbon reflects on the nature of regret. Not as depressing as it sounds, I promise!


**Disclaimer:** This whole "My Blue Heaven" thing would so not be happening if they belonged to me!

**Author's Note:** I saw the TV Guide article today and was struck with this, despite my intention to devote my writing time to the two multi-chapters I have going. It's just a bit of wish fulfillment.

**Regret**

Teresa Lisbon was no stranger to regret. Even before she was an adult, she'd collected more than her fair share. And she just hadn't seemed to be able to stop. There was Bosco, both covering for him and then using that to blackmail him into letting Jane go. And of course not being able to save him in the end, though at least they'd gotten to say good-bye.

And then there was Jane. Definitely her biggest regret, for so many reasons. She hadn't been able to save him either, though at least he was probably still alive somewhere. They hadn't gotten to say good-bye—at least, she hadn't. In hindsight, Jane had definitely been saying good-bye on that beach at sunset.

She had been angry at his selfishness for a long time, but eventually she had come to see that from his perspective, he'd done the best he could for her. Like on one of the nature shows he used to watch, it was pointless to be angry at an animal for acting according to its nature. Obsession had made him into an animal in a way, discarding civilized concepts like law and morality in favor of a more basic justice. At least in the end, he'd recognized himself as part of a herd and done his best to protect them.

Anger was pointless and harmful only to herself. Regret was all she could allow. She was grateful to the local priest for helping her see that and eventually accept it.

Two long years after Jane and the CBI had both vanished from her life, she was getting along fine. She had a good job and a nice place to live. She had the satisfaction of knowing that most of the people she cared about were safe and happy. She was still making a difference in people's lives, still protecting the innocent and pursuing the guilty. It was a good life. If she sometimes regretted not having anyone to share it with, it was a relief to be free of the potential for more heartbreak. She'd had her lifetime's worth. She had no desire to put herself in a situation where her happiness depended on someone else again.

Besides, who could compete with a ghost? She'd learned that the hard way, after all. She wouldn't want to put some nice, well-meaning guy through what she'd suffered. The fact that Jane was probably not dead didn't make the analogy less apt. These days she could mostly smile at the memory of his most outrageous scams, letting his callousness and dark obsession slide into the background and dwelling on his smile, his beautiful eyes, and his golden curls. No real man could compare. The fact that he'd never kissed her meant she had no memory of awkwardly bumping noses or clashing teeth; the fact that they'd never slept together meant she could pretend he didn't snore or fart in bed.

Her memory of him was airbrushed to near perfection. On the rare days that she was lonely, she could find comfort in it. A beautiful but irreparably damaged man had cared about her, had spent a decade at her side making her smile, giving her extravagant gifts, and feeding her when she didn't have the time to stop working long enough to eat.

Nowadays she had plenty of time. She'd even taken up gourmet cooking, and every once in a while she had people over for dinner. Sometimes she let herself regret that she'd never cooked for him, but they'd shared plenty of meals together, so she tried to remember that. She could smile now at how he found nearly orgasmic pleasure in a good plate of eggs or the perfect cup of tea.

It was only on the bad days—the anniversary of the day Red John had killed Jane's family or the last day she'd seen Jane—that she indulged herself with grieving over the knowledge that she had never been enough for him.

That was her biggest regret. She couldn't help but wonder sometimes if there was something she could have done to change the way things had ended. What if she'd just grabbed him one night, kissed him breathless, and seduced him on his couch? Would he have let himself love her then?

Probably not, she had to admit. The ghosts of his family had been too beautiful, blinding him to other possibilities. Or perhaps it had been the guilt and self-loathing that had blinded him. But she preferred to think it had been love, and he wasn't here to argue with her, so she could believe what she wanted. Didn't everybody rewrite their past as they got older, after all?

She'd just taken a week off to go back to Chicago and reconnect with her brothers and their families. When she'd resigned herself to not making a family of her own, she'd decided she had to make more of an effort to be part of her nieces' and nephews' lives. She could make a difference by being a good aunt, letting that be her contribution to the next generation.

It was only when she saw little curly haired blonde girls that she felt a pang. But maybe wherever he was, Jane had found love again, maybe started a new family. Maybe someday he'd feel safe enough to send her one of those family portrait Christmas cards. She hoped so. Nobody would be there to see her tears, and she would tell herself they were from happiness.

She'd timed her trip so she could be back home for tomorrow, the anniversary of the day she'd last seen Jane. Her family thought she'd moved on and gotten over everything that had happened, but she knew she'd be depressed that day. She always spent it drinking tea and eating ice cream until she couldn't hold the tears back anymore. It was her annual crying day, when she allowed herself to mourn the life she'd lost—and the love she'd lost before she'd ever had it.

It was okay, she assured herself. Her great aunt had observed the day of her husband's death every year for a decade by sitting in his chair, holding his pipe, and crying. Jane hadn't been her husband, but he had been the man she loved, her best friend, and her confidant. It was natural to mourn losing him. She could grant herself this indulgence.

She smiled as she pulled up to her house. It was tucked away in the woods, giving her the illusion of isolation when it was actually inside the town limits. As she closed the car door, she heard Bear barking inside and hurried to the back door, letting herself in and bracing herself as the golden lab hurled himself at her in a frenzy of joy.

The reunion over, she read the note from the pet sitter. Topaz was a dreamy, mother-earth type whose adoration for Bear was returned in full measure. Teresa liked her, but she was always worried she was going to start smirking at the barbed comments the Jane in her head tended to make. They'd grown less frequent over the years, but they still happened occasionally. They'd helped her solve a case or warned her of danger once or twice. She would always be grateful for the things she'd learned from Jane. She reminded herself of that when the regrets threatened to overpower her.

After sorting through the mail, she rummaged through the kitchen for something to eat for dinner. She'd cleared out all the perishables before leaving, but there were leftovers in the freezer she could reheat.

Oh. There was no ice cream. She'd need it for tomorrow. She'd better check her tea stock, too; she only drank it occasionally.

She was just opening the cupboard when someone knocked on her front door. Doubtless Mrs. Halloran had seen her drive past and was coming over to hear about her trip. Good thing she had tea after all; the older lady was almost as much a fan of it as Jane.

Bear had rushed to the door and was barking his heart out. She loved him dearly, but he wasn't the Einstein of dogs. "Quiet, silly. You know Mrs. Halloran!"

Bear whined but backed away from the door as she'd trained him to do. She said, "Good dog" and opened it—and froze, mouth hanging open.

Her ghost was standing on her doorstep, considerably scruffier than she remembered but definitely him. His voice was hoarse and uncertain as he said, "Hey, Lisbon."

"Hey," she managed to respond, stunned. As the shock wore off, she was hit with a wave of relief and joy so powerful it made her knees nearly give way, followed by a rush of anger that made her arm twitch with the urge to slam the door in his face.

Bear whined, confused. He took his cue about visitors from her, so until she gave some indication whether this stranger was welcome, he didn't know whether to greet or attack.

The whine caught Jane's attention, and he peered past her into the house. A smile took over his face, transforming it, as he said, "Well, who do we have here?"

Bear decided the stranger was friendly and came forward to investigate, tail wagging uncertainly. Jane reached down to let his hand be sniffed, then scratched behind the dog's ears, earning himself a lifelong admirer.

Anger was harmful and of no use, she recited to herself as she watched Jane and Bear make friends. First things first. "What are you doing here? Are you turning yourself in?" Forcing her to be the one to arrest him was just cruel.

In the goofy voice he used with dogs, he informed Bear, "No. All charges have been dropped." Then he glanced up at her, and she saw the pleading in his eyes. "Can I come in?"

She found herself hesitating. Her ghost was beautiful and harmless; did she really want to trade him for this disheveled, all-too-real man who was looking hopefully at her as if he had no idea that he'd shattered her heart? If he did it again she had no idea how to pick up the pieces a second time. "Why?" she asked.

He straightened, reaching into his pocket and producing a charming smile. "Close your eyes and hold out your hand."

The anger came roaring back. "No way in hell, Jane," she snapped. "Bear, inside, now." She couldn't slam the door with the dog in the way.

"Wait," Jane said, pulling his hand out of his pocket to reveal a small paper frog.

He'd been back in her life for one minute and he was already crushing her heart. "You think that makes it all better?" she demanded, astonished.

"No. I just hoped it would get me in the door. Making things better is going to take some time, and it's cold out here." He shivered and rubbed at his arms dramatically.

"No more games," she said firmly, looking him in the eye.

He held her gaze solemnly. "No more games."

She was pretty sure this was going to turn out to be one more thing she would regret, but slamming the door in his face was impossible when he was looking at her like that. So she stepped back to let him in. Bear danced around him, gleeful that his new friend was staying, and Jane knelt to give him a proper rubbing, making the dog squirm with ecstasy.

_Great,_ Teresa thought as she closed the door. _The dog gets a hug and I get a stupid paper frog. Which he didn't actually give me._

Jane stood, smiling a genuine smile at her, and threw his arms around her. She stopped herself from hugging back, remembering their last embrace and how he'd used her feelings to trick her. He held onto her for so long it felt awkward, then released a sigh into her hair and let go.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't come here to play games. I was just so happy to see you that I got a little...giddy." He held out the frog again. "I thought about flowers, but anybody could bring you flowers. This seemed more meaningful."

She hesitated, then took the frog. It was a little worse for wear after the hug, but it still tugged at her heart. It reminded her of a time when things had seemed simpler, when she'd told herself that a happy ending was still possible.

"I missed you," Jane said softly. "I didn't even realize how much until I saw you. You look good."

"Thanks." She shifted her weight uncomfortably, unable to return the compliment. "Um, do you want some tea?"

He beamed at her. She nearly swayed from the impact of it; that expression had been the hardest to remember accurately, since she'd seen it so rarely. "I'd love some tea, Lisbon, thank you."

"I don't have any milk," she said. "I just got back to town. But I have some chamomile—you don't take milk in that, right?"

"Right. That will be perfect. Thank you."

"Have a seat," she invited. Bear would keep him too busy petting for him to snoop much, she thought.

She put the kettle on, then reached into the cupboard for mugs. But she changed her mind after a moment and put one back, then went to the utility closet and grabbed her stepstool so she could rummage through the cupboard above the fridge. She found the turquoise cup and saucer just as the kettle began to whistle.

When she carried the tea tray into the living room, Jane's eyes widened. She thought she saw a tear in his eye as he reached for his old cup. "You kept it."

She shrugged, setting the tray on the coffee table and taking her mug. "It wasn't like anybody else was going to use it." Settling at the other end of the couch, she watched him sip his tea, closing his eyes and giving a trembling smile.

"Are you okay?" she asked. He seemed different somehow, lacking his usual confidence.

He set the cup down on the saucer. "Life on the run isn't nearly as glamorous as it sounds. And...I've come to learn that while killing Red John gave me satisfaction, it didn't lessen my pain or fill the hole in my life. In fact, it made the hole bigger, because I had to leave my new life behind. I missed it more than I thought I would. But I couldn't even try to get it back without getting arrested." He gave a brief, bitter chuckle. "You can say 'I told you so' if you want."

"I told you so," she said, because she thought she'd earned it. "I'm sorry it hasn't been all you hoped for. But yours wasn't the only life you messed up, you know."

"I know. I hoped you'd come out of it okay if you weren't there at the end. I'm sorry I was wrong about that. But I'm glad to see you are okay now." His smile was slight, but his eyes were affectionate.

"Something tells me that's about to change," she muttered, taking another sip of tea.

He shook his head. "I'm here to ask for your help, Lisbon. But I won't try to trick or manipulate you. I owe you too much to do that."

She wished she could believe him. "What do you need help with? Is it something to do with the charges getting dropped? Tell me everything up front, Jane. The instant I catch you withholding information, I'm kicking you to the curb."

He smiled into his teacup. "And rightly so. As you've probably guessed, the FBI sought me out and made a deal with me. Nobody's all that interested in prosecuting me for ridding the world of a serial killer, as long as I make myself useful. On their terms, of course."

"Yeah? Well, I wish them luck with that. Why are you here?"

"I...I haven't been myself lately. I honestly don't think I can deliver what they're expecting." He tapped his fingers on his teacup, and she realized he wasn't wearing his ring.

At least he'd managed to move on that much, she thought once she got over her surprise. "What's this? Patrick Jane doubting his ability to run circles around everybody else he meets?"

He shrugged, hunching over his tea a little. "As long as I was chasing Red John, I told myself it didn't matter if I was still conning people. As long as I got the job done, that was all that was important. But then when it was over, I had a lot of time to think about my family, about what they would have wanted. And I had to admit nobody could look at what I'd become with anything but disgust."

She said softly, "I wasn't disgusted, Jane. Angry and sad, but not disgusted."

"No. You're far too nice, Lisbon. But I was disgusted with myself. Am disgusted with myself. And a big part of that is about how I treated you. So regardless of what else is said tonight, I want to make sure you know how much I regret that. All of it. And I want you to know that I regretted it at the time, but even more now. Because I didn't fully appreciate how much I relied on you until I had to give you up, with no hope of ever seeing you again."

She swallowed against the lump in her throat. When she could speak, she said, "Wow. You must want something big."

His mouth twitched into a frown. "I don't blame you for being skeptical, Lisbon. You have that right. But please don't mock me."

She looked at his posture and wondered what to believe. A contrite Jane was usually up to something, in her experience. And the last heartfelt talk they'd had had ended with her stranded by the roadside with no phone. But on the off chance that he really was this beaten down, she could at least keep quiet. "Fine. Go on."

"So I don't want to con people anymore. But the real problem is, I don't seem to be able to even read them accurately. I lose at poker now. I was hospitalized after someone I thought was harmless cracked my skull. And after I got out, someone in a crowd picked my pocket. Can you believe that?" He seemed to be talking mostly to himself now. "After that I figured I was just a waste of space. That I'd be better off—" he stopped, then shook his head. "That was a bad day. But my point is, I've lost my mojo."

"You've had a bad time," she said. "It's hard to be in good form when you're depressed. I know. But you'll get it back, Jane. You don't need my help for that."

"But I do." He looked at her intently. "I don't want to go back to what I was, Lisbon. Either the con man or the vigilante. I want to be something better. Someone worthy of the people who've loved me."

She wondered if he included her in that list. "No one can change anyone except themselves, Jane. I can't change you. I spent way too many years trying and failing to fall into that trap again."

"I'm not asking you to change me. I'm asking you to help me change myself. You have the best, purest heart of anyone I know. I need you to keep me going in the right direction."

Teresa wondered what sins she had committed that condemned her to having the man she loved and lost come back to her against all odds and asking her to be—his life coach. "I already have a job. A good job. With good people."

"Police chief, yes. I know. It must suit you." He smiled a little. "And you have a lovely house and a great dog." He looked down at Bear, who had laid his chin on Jane's leg and was gazing up at him adoringly, and scratched his ears. Then he sighed. "I knew once I got here I'd probably see that it was impossible. But I had to try. And I'm so glad to see you healthy and happy."

Happy might be stretching it, she thought. She was content, though. Or at least she had been until she saw him again.

Even though her big plan for tomorrow had been to grieve over him with tea and ice cream.

Crap.

She shot him a look. "Are you trying to manipulate me by making me feel sorry for you?"

"No." He paused. "Not...on purpose. But old habits do die hard, I guess. Sorry." He put his cup and saucer on the tray and stood. "I've been a curse on you, and you're right to not want more of that."

"Wait." She stood, suddenly determined not to let him leave so soon.

The hope in his eyes reminded her of Bear when she cooked bacon. She could no sooner turn her back on Jane than she could abandon Bear, she realized. She was a rescuer. It was who she was.

"Have you had dinner?" she asked.

He shook his head, and she noticed for the first time that his suit hung on him a little. If he'd been depressed, he probably hadn't been eating like he should. "Then finish your tea while I heat something up."

"Lisbon, I—if you're going to say no, I'd really rather just go. I hate long good-byes."

"For God's sake, Jane, you haven't actually asked me to do anything specific. And I haven't decided anything. If you're going to turn my life upside down, you could at least let me think about it." She reached for Bear's leash, hanging near the door. "Make yourself useful and take Bear for a walk. Be back in fifteen minutes and we'll eat."

He blinked at her, then grinned. "Yes, boss."

When he was gone, she closed her eyes and prayed for strength. And wisdom. Then she went into the kitchen and pulled some boeuf bourguignon out of the freezer and grabbed a bottle of red wine. Whatever else happened, she was going to celebrate him coming back to her.

Besides, she knew perfectly well that Jane was right: she regretted the things she hadn't done far more than any of the things she had done. Maybe it was time to do a few of those things.

When she set the table, she put the paper frog in the center. He could start making things up to her by showing her how to make it jump.

Jane and Bear returned just as she was ladling the heated up meal into bowls. They came into the kitchen, Bear panting up at her and Jane saying, "Your door was unlocked, Lisbon."

"Because you don't have a key," she replied. "This is a safe place. And nobody's going to break into the chief of police's house."

He looked unhappy, but a moment later grinned. "Lisbon. You cook? It smells amazing."

"My new hobby. You can wash up in the powder room. Back down the hall to your left."

He left, and Lisbon put food in Bear's bowl so he could eat while they did. When Jane came back, she could see that he'd not only washed his hands, but his face, and he'd tried to tame his hair a bit.

As they sat down, he reached for the frog and adjusted it, not trying to hide what he was doing. Moments later, it jumped. They both grinned at each other, and for just an instant, the years fell away.

Jane dropped his eyes to his bowl, but not before she saw the flash of pain in them. He took a bite of the food, then hummed in approval. "Delicious, Lisbon." He cleaned his bowl in record time, as if he'd been starving.

"There's more if you want it," she said.

"I do, thanks. But I can get it; you keep eating." He got up and headed for the stove.

Teresa was suddenly struck by how domestic this felt. How natural it was. She took a sip of her wine and sternly told herself not to let her guard down. He hadn't even told her what he wanted from her, after all.

When he'd cleaned his bowl the second time, he sat back with a smile. "Thank you. That was the best meal I've had in a long time."

"You're welcome," she replied. "So. What exactly do you want from me?"

"Forgiveness, for one thing. But I recognize that may take some time."

"The FBI, Jane," she prompted.

"Of course. Work comes before our personal lives." There was a slight edge to his tone, but he continued before she could call him on it. "They've hired me on as a consultant to do profiling and 'other duties as assigned.' I'm reporting to an Agent Abbott. He's your typical federal bureaucrat. I have a feeling we're not going to get along very well. And he's put me with an agent who treats me like a child. So I'm afraid I've started acting like one."

"Started?" she muttered.

"Anyway, I can already see it's not going to work, and we haven't even worked a case yet."

"You haven't?" She was surprised.

"No. Just the orientation." He made a face.

He always did hate structure, she reflected. The FBI was in no way a good fit for him. She didn't know who to feel sorrier for, him or the agent he was torturing. "And you want me to what, hire you? I don't have a budget for consultants."

"No. I want you to come work at the FBI. Come work with me." The plea was back in his eyes.

"Jane, there's no way the FBI will hire me—"

"Agent Abbott's familiar with your record. He says if I can convince you, he'll hire you."

"It can take months to get hired as a federal employee." And she didn't really want to be.

Jane sensed her reluctance and reached across the table for her hand. "You can be a consultant too. And you can quit anytime. Please, Lisbon. I need you."

Something inside her started to melt. "But I have a life here."

"I know. And I am sorry to do this."

"Cho works for the FBI now. Just tell them to let you work with him." She was grasping at straws now, and she bet he knew it.

He withdrew his hand, taking a sip of his wine, which he'd hardly touched. "I know why you're hesitant. I spent years ignoring your feelings and forcing you to try to hide them. And you don't want to be in that position again." He glanced at her, then dropped his gaze again. "I don't know how much, if any, of that feeling might have survived. But I promise you, things will be different. I will be different. Better."

She really didn't know what to say to that.

"I have so many regrets about you, Lisbon. More than I can name. I want a chance to redeem some of them."

She sighed. "One case."

"Really?" He broke into his big, goofy smile.

"Just one. And if I don't like it, I'm coming right back here and continuing with my life. My deputy can cover for me while I take vacation to do this. And you're paying for the dog sitter."

"Deal. Thank you, Teresa."

Oh, God. She'd forgotten how much she loved the way he said her name. "Don't thank me yet. I'll probably hate working with the FBI."

"No you won't. Cho said he'd come work with us if you agreed."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "That's dangerously close to withholding information, Jane."

"I didn't want to be accused of manipulating you," he replied, a twinkle in his eye. For a moment, he looked almost like his old self. Then he sobered. "Thank you, Teresa. This means the world to me. If I can do anything for you, just tell me. Do you have any open cases?"

"None that don't involve vandalism," she admitted. "I need to hit the grocery store. Where are you staying tonight?"

"I was hoping you could recommend a motel."

She thought of the B&B two streets over. Then she decided that her new, no-regrets life was going to start tonight. "My guest room is available. And it comes with a dog for at least part of the night." Bear was back beside Jane, waiting patiently for some affection. She could identify.

He opened his mouth to decline, then paused. "Thank you. I appreciate it. In return, can I help carry your groceries?"

"Yes." She got to her feet, and he did too. "And there's one more thing you can do for me."

"Anything. Though I must warn you that my handyman skills are—"

He broke off as she grabbed his collar and pulled his mouth down to hers. Only an instant passed before he put his arms around her and kissed her back with enthusiasm.

When they parted, she said breathlessly, "Now I can cross never kissing you off my list of regrets."

He grinned. "So can I. I bet our lists have more than a few regrets in common."

"Maybe," she teased him.

"Tomorrow I want to cook you breakfast. That's a big one," he said.

"Fine. Anything else?"

"I want to make you smile at least once every day."

"Oh, I like that one. I want to hear you laugh. Really laugh."

He smiled. "You realize you have to be in the same room for that to happen, right?"

"I'm aware. Now come on. The store closes at eight. And if we don't buy some eggs for breakfast, we'll both regret it."

He reached for her hand and squeezed it. "No more regrets."

It sounded like a promise. She smiled, blinking back a tear. "No more regrets," she agreed.


End file.
